The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Not then. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. “Nothing so base. CHAPTER XVI.
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